


Tequila Makes His Clothes Stay On

by songofthe52hertzwhale



Category: Dalton Academy Series
Genre: M/M, Tequila
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23220745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songofthe52hertzwhale/pseuds/songofthe52hertzwhale
Summary: Logan agrees to a drinking game he really shouldn't have.But the cute bartender helps him out.
Relationships: Julian Larson-Armstrong/John Logan Wright III
Kudos: 11





	Tequila Makes His Clothes Stay On

“You realize this is a  _ terrible _ idea, right?”

Logan frowns up at the bartender. He’s leaning against the bar, a rag thrown over one shoulder. One of his eyebrows is tilted upwards, and he’s eyeing Logan with amusement.

He’s pretty hot, if Logan’s totally honest with himself. But he can’t be so cliché as to hit on the  _ bartender _ . Derek would never let him live it down.

Besides, he’s here with someone -- an ill-advised Tinder meet up, yes, but Michelle raised him to be a gentleman.

“What’s a terrible idea?”

The bartender levels him with a look so judging Logan leans back in his seat.

“A shot contest?” the man says, “Seriously? With a guy you clearly barely know. This is like, the reddest of red flags.”

“I can hold my liquor,” Logan argues, despite knowing full well he can’t.

“No you can’t. Three weeks ago you drank three midori sours and had to be carried out of here.”

Logan grimaces, “You saw that?”

“I did.”

The bartender turns away just briefly to close out another customer’s tab, and Logan frowns as he watches him swipe a credit card.

“I thought you said your machine was down?”

“I did,” the bartender said, “So your date -- who is  _ so _ not your type, by the way -- would have to leave to go to the ATM, and could tell you what a  _ terrible fucking idea this is _ .”

Logan blinks, “What do you mean he’s not my type?”

The bartender makes a face, “He’s a top. So are you. The best possible end for this night is uncoordinated drunken handjobs.”

Logan’s glad he hasn’t actually been given a drink yet, because he’s fairly certain he would choke on it. He glances backward, sees his date just turning back from the ATM.

“Look,” he says, leaning in, “It’s been a long ass time since I got laid, okay? You’re right, he’s not my type. But I’ll settle for uncoordinated drunken handjobs at this point. So  _ please _ just give us the shots, okay?”

The bartender looks almost pitying, “What’s your name?”

“Logan.”

“Logan. I’m Julian,” he picks two shot glasses off a shelf, setting them down on the counter, “Order tequila, okay?”

“I hate tequila.”

Julian blinks. He looks tired.

Logan’s date sits down, a handful of folded bills at the ready. He grins, and Logan tries to smile back.

“So, a hundo for every shot, right?” he asks, “You decide on what kind yet?”

Before Logan can speak, Julian slams two bottles down.

“He did,” he says brightly, “Tequila.”

Logan could kill him. He’s hated tequila ever since he’d consumed way too much at that grad party senior year, can’t stand the burn of it going down his throat. He’s going to be out of this game before it even starts.

He watches as Julian holds the bottles of clear tequila upside down over the glasses, filling them simultaneously. He slides them across the bar, following them with a small dish of sliced limes and a single shaker of salt. 

Logan licks the back of his hand, shakes salt over it. His date does the same. 

“Bottoms up,” he says, and Logan licks the salt, then gamely shoots back the glass in one swallow.

He blinks. He turns to Julian.

The asshole  _ winks _ .

Beside him, the other man is reaching for the limes. Logan should, too, but he doesn’t need it.

Because Julian’s poured him a shot of  _ water _ .

“You want a break?” Julian offers brightly, “Or are you just gonna go one right after another?”

“Give us another,” Logan’s date says, and Logan winces when a heavy hand lands on his thigh, “You can handle it, right babe?”

Logan tries not to grimace. He looks at Julian and nods.

Another round is poured.

The salt is sprinkled.

And Logan takes a second shot of chilled water.

It’s probably fucked up, he thinks. His date is going to get steadily drunk, while Logan remains stone-cold sober. But he  _ really _ doesn’t anticipate this going anywhere, and he may as well get something out of this.

Julian doesn’t put a stop to it until there’s a thick stack of bills in front of Logan, until his date is swaying on his stool.

“Another,” he slurs, gesturing at Julian, “I wanna get  _ laid _ .”

Logan might vomit.

“That’s not happening tonight,” he says, scooting away, “I think we’re done.”

The man frowns. He opens his mouth, then makes a gagging sound and pushes away from the bar. Logan watches as he stumbles across the room, barely making it through the bathroom door.

“He went into the women’s,” Julian muses, wiping down the counter in front of him, “You can go ahead and escape now. I’m sure by the time our bouncer kicks him out, he’ll have forgotten he even came here with someone.”

“Yeah, probably. Thanks, by the way. You’re right, that probably wasn’t going to end well.”

“I know I wouldn’t let him anywhere near my dick.”

Logan snorts, “I’m sure you get laid more often than me. I wasn’t kidding when I said I’m getting pretty desperate.”

Julian smirks, “Oh yeah? Desperate enough to be a total cliché and hit on your bartender?”

“I didn’t...I swear, I wasn’t.”

“Oh, I know. I never go out with customers who hit on me. It’s tacky, and pretty rude to hit on someone working customer service.”

Logan frowns, “I know. That’s why I wasn’t.”

“But you  _ could _ ,” Julian says, speaking slowly as if he’s talking to a young child, “That’s what I’m telling you.”

“...I could.”

“Oh my god,” Julian rolls his eyes and tosses his rag down, “Would you like to use all that money I helped you win to take me dinner tomorrow night or not?”

Logan blinks, “Dinner?”

“I won’t challenge you to a drinking competition. I’ll limit myself to a glass of wine. But I  _ will _ order a dessert, and probably eat some of your food too.”

“Well,” Logan considers it for a moment, then smiles, “I guess you  _ did  _ win me several hundred dollars. Seven o’clock? That Japanese place on Fourth?”

Julian grins, “See you there. Now go, before tonight’s date gets back.”

Logan slips off his stool. He gathers his winnings, shoving them into his pants pocket. Just before he turns, Julian calls out once more.

  
“For the record,” he says, his eyes twinkling, “I put out on the first date. And I’ll give you  _ way _ better than an uncoordinated handjob.”


End file.
